Blood of the Dragon

by Sarina Langer

  “Cephy still can’t grace me with her presence, I see.”

  She swallowed. Her hair pin slipped.

  If it fell out while he was here…

  “I have come to see to your wounds. Cephy needs you healed.”

  “No.” Kiana wanted to spit on him. She wanted to jump up and punch the smug grin off his lips, but any movement seemed like a bad idea. “Cephy sent you. You’re not here because you decided to come. You’re here because someone much younger than you—someone gifted—sent you.”

  He closed the distance between them and smacked her hard. Her pin barely held on, tugging at the end of a thin strand.

  Just a little longer, my little lockpick. Maker, please, hold on a little longer.

  “You forget your place, bezcya.”

  She spat blood at his feet. “I thought Cephy wants me healed?”

  “The Mothers are here to heal you. One more injury won’t strain them.”

  She felt her cheek bruising as he spoke. “I suggest you don’t make her wait then. Or do you enjoy my presence so much you want to draw this out?”

  He grimaced but waved to the Mothers. “Do as you’ve been ordered.”

  For once, she was grateful they were made of shadows. She didn’t need to adjust to give them a better angle. They simply created their own angles, wrapping around her and melding to her skin however they needed.

  She couldn’t hide a sigh when the pain went away. It felt good to breathe without her ribcage aching.

  “Cephy will be ready for you soon. I suggest you don’t do anything foolish, prze wro, or I might kill you.”

  Her heart dropped so low it had a better chance of escaping than she did. Did he know? No, he couldn’t. It had to be a normal taunt, nothing more. There was no surveillance in this room, no guards to watch over her every laboured breath. Unless… Were the shadows a little darker? Had they always seemed to watch her? If just one Mother hid and observed…

  No. She was paranoid, and the lack of sleep, food, and freedom wasn’t helping. She wouldn’t throw away her only chance of escape because of unfounded fears. If she wasn’t being paranoid after all, and a Mother really had seen what she was up to, then at least she’d die doing something. She’d take it over being helpless.

  “Fuck you, ambassador. May you rot in the Mists.”

  He slammed the door behind him, and her pin fell to the floor with a quiet tap.

  She breathed a heavy sigh of relief. If what he said was true and Cephy was almost ready for whatever she had planned, then Kiana was out of time.

  She shuffled across the room to the rock she’d flung away earlier and resumed work on her crude lockpick.

  Whether a demon watched her or not, she didn’t have time to worry. The Mothers weren’t intelligent enough to make informed decisions anyway, so chances were she worried over nothing. If anything, they might assume she was trying to set fire to the place.

  Which wasn’t a terrible backup plan, if this failed.

  Kiana grinned. Her heart hammered from excitement rather than fear. It was almost enough to make her feel like herself again—in control and fighting back. She could do this. She’d free Rachael, they’d escape together, and she’d craft a boat too if she had to, but she’d get them back to Rifarne, back to the Sparrows, and then they’d take the fight to the Mothers.

  Finally, the lockpick was thin enough. It didn’t feel strong, so all being well it only needed to open one lock.

  Kiana crouched by the door and got to work.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Waiting had been hard when Rachael was a homeless orphan in Blackrock, desperate for the next bite of food, but now it was almost unbearable. Just this once, she wanted Arnost Lis to come for her. She didn’t care if he came to deliver her to the sacrificial altar or just to gloat, but she needed him in this room for her plan to work.

  The woman in her vision—or whatever this new evolved form was—had told her to be patient, that help was on its way, but she hadn’t said where Rachael should wait. Rachael would rather take her chances outside the temple and leave a trail for whoever might be coming. She’d learned a few things from Cale, even if he’d only shown her how to track in the forest to pass time. If the woman had spoken about him, he’d see the signs. Cephy, on the other hand, wouldn’t know what to look for, and she doubted Arnost Lis had ever got his hands dirty himself.

  She sat against the wall and breathed deep to steady herself. Her plan gave her confidence—it was what came afterwards that made her nervous. Right now, the only thing she was sure of was that Arnost Lis would enter her room eventually. She’d have to improvise after that.

  A door scraped across the stone floor and her heart raced. She shot to her feet and hid behind her door.

  He was taller than her. He was stronger than her. He’d have a weapon. But she had the advantage of surprise and adrenaline masking her fear.

  Her heart beat so fast it hurt.

  The door opened and blocked her view.

  Arnost Lis was only quiet for a second. “Bezcya!”

  Rachael jumped around the door and rammed her elbow into his face. She didn’t reach high enough and hit him in the chest instead. Arnost Lis staggered, grabbed her arm. Spun her around and pressed her against the wall.

  “You’ll regret that, witch.”

  Rachael drove her other arm into his side and kicked at his ankles. The pain from her elbow winded him and left him unprepared for her kick. He fell when her foot connected with his kneecap, dragging her down with him.

  His arm sped around her throat. Choked her.

  She clawed at him, kicked out, but only met air and an arm that was much stronger than her. He didn’t budge. Her strength left her. Her vision blurred.

  She sagged into him. Dropped her arms. He let go—

  And Rachael rammed her elbow into his stomach and then into his throat. He coughed and doubled over, but she wasn’t done. She needed him unconscious.

  Rachael turned him onto his back with her foot, which she positioned just over his throat. His hand grabbed for her ankle, but his other hand was too preoccupied holding his aching throat for him to get a grip on her. To make sure, she rammed her foot down on his free knuckles. He swallowed a scream, but it was satisfying nonetheless. She put all her weight onto his knuckles and kicked the other hand away from his neck.

  “Where’s Kiana?”

  He glowered, but beneath the hatred he looked scared. He spat at her. “Prze wro!”

  “I get it, you don’t like me. The feeling is mutual, ambassador.” She pressed her foot into his throat until he gasped for air. “But, you see, you don’t have to like me. Right now, I really want to shove my foot down. So, why don’t you tell me where Kiana is?”

  He gestured for her to lift her foot. Rachael obliged.

  Arnost Lis choked. “You really think you’ll get out of here alive?”

  Rachael shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe not. But at least I’ll die fighting, not wasting away in this prison.”

  “I want Cephy dead, too,” he whispered between gritted teeth. “We can kill the girl together and leave.”

  “You don’t know me, Lis. I don’t want her dead, I want—” What did she want? Hadn’t Rachael thought herself that Cephy was beyond saving? She brought her foot down again, and his eyes widened in terror. “I want to know where Kiana is.”

  Again, he gestured for her to take her foot away. She eased the pressure, but not so much as to give him any false ideas.

  “Even if you found her, you wouldn’t be able to get in.”

  Rachael sighed. Perhaps she should just break his nose and open random doors until she either found Kiana or Cephy or the Mothers killed her.

  “That’s my problem, not yours. From where I’m standing—above you, with my foot on your throat—I don’t see any other way out of this for you. Tell me where Kiana is, and I’ll let you go. You can make up some lie for Cephy.”

  He sagged against the floor. “Fine. Two doo
rs down on the right, but you’ll need—”

  Rachael hated fighting dirty, but it had saved her life on the streets. She was nothing if not a survivor, and people like Lis—pain motivated—were easy to manipulate.

  So, she kicked the side of his face. Arnost Lis blacked out.

  Rachael bent over him and took the keys from his belt. She hesitated—it was now or never.

  Rachael balled her hand into a fist and punched his face hard enough for a satisfying crack to echo through her prison. Killing him with her bare hands would take too much time, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t hurt him. Maybe she’d get lucky and he’d choke on his own blood.

  She slipped into the corridor, locked the door behind her, and wished she’d asked Kiana to teach her how to blend into the shadows.

  Rachael steadied her breathing as much as her racing heart allowed as she pressed herself against the wall. She prayed the shadows would hide her and lead her to Kiana without being seen. But the shadows in a place like this had eyes, and she felt watched every tentative step of her impossibly long way.

  If Arnost Lis had lied to her, she’d have to start over, but she didn’t think he had. He was used to giving orders and exacting his punishment on people weaker than him, people who couldn’t fight back. If Rachael had to guess, he’d never been in a position like the one she’d put him in. He was only brave and strong while he was winning, but he was a coward underneath his cold glare and judgemental front. Her reminder would do his inflated ego good. She relied on his cowardice and hated that the man who had once abandoned her to the freezing winter was her only hope.

  Paschros kai zo. Paschros kai zo.

  Rachael had come too far to die now.

  She moved forwards, not daring to think what would happen if a Mother came out of a shadow, if Cephy walked around the corner, if Arnost List woke up and raised an alarm. Fear kept her on her toes, but she wished she could turn away from it and not consider the many ways her plan was doomed to fail. Even if Rachael and Kiana managed to run, leave the temple behind, and disappear inside the forest, they had no chance of getting off the island. They didn’t know the forest or what else might be lurking inside. Cephy and her Mothers, on the other hand, had been here long enough to know which way offered shelter, which way was the surest to safety.

  Or did they? The Mothers weren’t clever, and Rachael doubted Cephy cared. In fact, Rachael relied on it. The signs she’d leave Cale would be useless otherwise.

  But it wouldn’t take Cephy long to know Rachael was gone. The moment Arnost Lis woke up, he’d alert every demon on this island, and they’d all look for her. How long could she hide from the shadows around her?

  A door opened not five feet away. A demon strode out, and Racheal held her breath. The shadows weren’t deep here. She stood out with her too-pale skin and rags that barely covered her body. If the Mother turned around or came her way...

  But the demon turned right and floated away from Rachael.

  Her legs shook. Her heart hammered so hard she was scared someone might hear.

  Rachael didn’t have time to compose herself, so she embraced the shadows and went forwards, ever forwards, until she heard a little voice too loud against the silence.

  Cephy’s.

  “... want at least a hundred Mothers to greet them.”

  No one replied. Arnost Lis was lying unconscious in her room, but Cephy was clearly talking to someone. Who else was here? Who else couldn’t Rachael trust? She hadn’t seen any other people, but then no one had given her a tour. For all she knew, Cephy had hundreds of allies just waiting to hunt her down.

  “I don’t care if it’s too many. You need me, and You will do as I say.”

  Underneath the hardness of her cruel tone lurked the childish pout the girl had given Cale and Arlo. Was Cephy aware of it? Did she struggle against herself every day, torn between both selves?

  More importantly, who was she talking to?

  “No. It’s good intel. Arnost Lis has a spy with them, he reported in.”

  So, they’d missed someone, but who? One of her chefs? One of the people cleaning the corridor outside her door? Reeved was still watching Ludo in Paranossa’s prison. Even if he reported to the Tramuran ambassador without Reeve noticing, he’d have nothing to say.

  Although… How long had she been here? Had Reeve returned in the meantime, and, if he had, had he brought Ludo with him? Had Ludo betrayed her again?

  She steadied herself against the wall. Assumptions wouldn’t do her any good; the last thing she needed was more paranoia.

  Rachael strained her ears. No one replied, just as before, but Cephy wasn’t having a conversation with herself. The Mothers didn’t speak; at least, Rachael had never heard one utter a single word. It wasn’t Arnost Lis, so who—

  Rachael’s blood ran cold, and she shivered. She pressed closer to the wall.

  There was no other person here, but Cephy wasn’t alone either. Darkness as endless as the centre of the Mists held her hostage.

  The Dark One.

  And Cephy was talking to Him. Giving Him orders, like He had no choice but to listen to her. Didn’t she realise what she was playing with, or had Aeron’s arrogance rubbed off on her?

  “No. I don’t need Your permission. They listen to me as much as they do to You. They will wait at the shore if I command it. They will burn their boats and drown the survivors.”

  Her vision echoed in Rachael’s mind. Help was coming, and Cephy knew.

  Her Sparrows were walking right into a trap, and she had no way of warning them.

  A sudden shuffle of feet urged Rachael into action. Cephy was nearing the door, and if she saw Rachael, her escape plan would be over before she got anywhere near Kiana.

  Without time to think, Rachael opened the door closest to her and rushed inside, closing it behind her. There was nowhere to hide. Rachael dove towards the darkest corner and waited.

  Cephy’s footsteps came closer, right up to her door…

  And faded.

  Rachael sighed and sank to her knees.

  From the corner of her eye, a brief glimmer caught her attention. There were so many boxes in this room, but she be damned if she didn’t recognise the sword peeking out of one of them. Rachael rushed to it, grabbed the hilt, and the familiar warmth filled her; her sword recognised her as surely as she’d recognised it.

  It gave her new strength. She straightened. Her pendant and her armour could be in any of the boxes. It’d take hours to sift through everything, and Rachael didn’t even have minutes. Her amulet was too small to stand out—if it was buried under something else, she’d never find it. Kiana, however, needed help right now, and Rachael had her sword to fight if it came to that.

  The door opened, silent as prowling cats. Rachael spun around in shock. A Mother swept in. It spotted Rachael and hesitated.

  Rachael drove her blade deep into its shadow gut. She smiled in relief when the enchantment still worked and burnt the demon to ashes before it screamed.

  That was too close. She needed to hurry. If the demons were connected in any way, if they knew when one of them died… Rachael didn’t have time to ponder it.

  She had a friend to save and an escape to pull off.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The sun was just setting over the White City when Cale stepped into the courtyard. He’d always loved how the dying sun dipped the white stone into warmer, more inviting shades of orange and pink. Tonight, he dreaded what dusk brought.

  He hadn’t enjoyed his first journey on dragonback, and he doubted he’d enjoy this one. His stomach churned at the thought, but if he could ask his Sparrows to travel in this way, he could do it too. And Rachael was worth it, no matter how he looked at it.

  Kaida followed him into the courtyard. “Are your Sparrows ready to depart?”

  They looked nervous, even Ludo. Most of his Sparrows had believed dragons a legend until they’d seen this one break the palace roof and lift Cale and Rachael out of it by i
ts massive talons. Reeve and Ludo didn’t even have that advantage, and Reeve wasn’t good with small spaces. While a dragon was anything but small it didn’t give them an easy way down. Cale hoped his Sparrows would be all right. The last thing he needed was a panic over the ocean.

  “They’re ready, considering our odds.”

  Kaida placed one hand on his shoulder. “We will save Rachael, Cale. Your Sparrows are brave and skilled. They will fight to succeed.”

  “It’s not their determination I’m worried about.”

  They had packed what they could, sacrificing equipment and rations for speed. Each of them had a small pack of dried fruit, salted beef, and water, and each Sparrow had his weapon, but there’d been no space for anything more. Kaida would have enough to carry without them packing things they probably wouldn’t need. They’d taken only some basic bandages and would have to rely on Kaida if they needed healing.

  Reeve and Ludo walked over. There was a spring in Ludo’s step and an excited grin on his face despite the nerves he had to be feeling.

  “So, you’re really a dragon?” Ludo asked.

  Kaida smiled. “I am indeed.”

  “How will we stay on? I mean, there aren’t seats, are there?”

  “I have enough magic to keep everyone safe, but you may hold on to my scales if it helps.”

  Reeve frowned. “I don’t like this, Cale. I’d rather travel by one of those focus points.”

  Since Reeve had passed out the first time they’d travelled by focus point, Cale could guess how little Reeve was looking forward to this.

  “Me too, but we have little choice,” Cale said. “We can’t be sure that there is a focus point on Kaethe, and if there is the Mothers would likely know the moment we arrive. That’s if it even still works. And then there’s no guarantee where—”

  “Fine, I get it.” Reeve didn’t look any happier for it. “Won’t they see us coming? I can’t imagine a full-grown dragon is going to be stealthy.”